Tourist in Port au Prince

One of the great delights about being in Haiti is abandoning so many things I feel the urge to control in the States.  I turn off my cellphone, I don’t follow the time.  I get outside the airport gates, hand off one of my heavy duffels to Cherabon, settle into a passenger seat and leave the driving to him as I survey the wonder that is Port au Prince.  Today there were eleven of us in a large van, four other visiting missionaries and six Haitians; I guess lots of people had business in the city.  I am well versed in the road from the airport by now, past the pastel Oxfam houses that are slowly supplanting the tent cities, the gigantic and smelly open market, the port, city hall plaza that is sprouting weeds, the treacherous Cite du Soleil and the oil tank farms that stretch until space opens up near Carrefour and we are in the country.

But today we took a different route, right through town, past sights I had not seen since my first visit to Haiti in 2009, before the quake.  If you squint Delmar Road has a European flair, houses tight to the winding street with colorful vendors lining the sides.  True, the buildings are flat grey and many are damaged, the street vendors are woman squatting in front of wide baskets of rejects from American superstores, but there are treasures to be found.  We passed some long, sculptural bars of local soap and elegant wands of sugar cane.  A statuesque woman carried a platter of the reddest cherries atop her head.

After scaling the rise we hit a straight street that heads back towards the sea.  This is the furniture district, rows and rows of poorly lacquered bureaus and wire beds with garish mattresses.  But ahead of us stand the remains of the Cathedral, now a single wall anchored by a pair of toppled towers.  The remnant of the rose window is still in place, but instead of stained glass inserts, the masonry voids create cutouts of the clear blue sky beyond.

We wind to the left and enter the Federal area, broad boulevards with gracious traffic circles, wrought iron fences that define formal gardens, and the impressive Second Empire President’s Palace.  Just keep squinting and ignore that the palace dome that toppled in the earthquake still sits skewed and unmoved for the past two years, the gardens are overrun with tents, the wrought iron fences are capped with swirls of barbed wire, and the circles are lined with port-a-potties whose doors open right into the traffic.

Our final sights in Port au Prince take us by what must be the import district.  Fat bags of 50 pound flour from France, stacked like bricks over eight feet high. Rows and rows of the stuff.  It is no small wonder that in the past three years Haiti, like virtually every place else in the world, has gotten fat.  Flour is not part of Haiti’s native diet, but the First World’s surplus is here for the taking.  Starvation is on the wane, but the dichotomy of malnourished fat people is on the rise.

Eventually Port au Prince falls behind, we meet up with Route 2 and make our way along the familiar route to Grand Goave.  But I really enjoyed our scenic detours through the city.

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Futurity

There are few joys in life greater than going to theater to see something you know little about and walking out transformed by the experience.  The pursuit of that rush is why I subscribe to three different theater companies, have tickets early in each run, and never read reviews before I attend performances.

The most outré theater I attend is the ART, where sometimes I like what I see, sometimes I hate it, but I never forget it.  ART’s hallmark is twisting convention.  Sometimes it is terrible, but when the ART’s vision works, as it does in the blockbuster Porgy and Bess now triumphing on Broadway, or Dresden Doll Amanda Palmer’s turn as the MC in Cabaret, or the disco infused Shakespeare of The Donkey Show, it is miraculous.

On Thursday I attended the second performance of Futurity, a musical by The Lisps.  I never heard of The Lisps, and ART’s pre-performance email described Futurity as a civil war era musical about a machine that created peace; not material that is obviously compelling.  The performance was held at Oberon, ART’s alternative performance space where the audience sits in small cafe tables.  I had a terrible seat, in the shadow of the band.  By the end of 100 minutes my neck ached from craning up at everyone’s chin, but the rest of my spirit was so buoyed, my pains barely registered.

The Lisps are five musicians, a dashing pair of lead singers (Cesar Alvarez and Sammy Tunis), bass player Lorenzo Wolff, a keyboard, and drummer Eric Farber who was ensconced in a percussive mousetrap fantasy.  Over the course of the performance the drum space grows ever more complex and delightful as it becomes the machine that creates peace, ultimately involving half dozen or more cast members creating amazing rhythms together in their pursuit of elusive harmony.

Cesar is a Civil War private, adrift in the Ohio 30th Division as they wend their way to inflict and/or experience death in Virginia.  Cesar maneuvers his guitar with the same imprecision as the wooden rifles wielded by the chorus soldiers.  Sammy is the gorgeous, brainy, and articulate Ada Lovelace, the real life daughter of Lord Byron and a serious theoretical mathematician of her era.  Their shared journey, separated by an ocean, wealth, intellect, and circumstance, is a moving love story, and the bizarre notion of a machine that creates peace becomes ever more compelling, and important, as the troops move closer to the complete and pointless annihilation that remains our country’s bloodiest moment.

The music is incredible, the percussion amazing, the staging creative, and the emotional narrative compelling, but the lyrics steal the show.  The songs are dense with intellectual rapping that ask important questions about whether our brains define meaning or are they just a neutral medium, and how might machines transcend the input we provide?  Questions pertinent in our post nuclear age posited against such quaint technological advances as the repeating rifle.  Any show that includes a song that forges provocative links between Socrates, Copernicus, Pythagoras, Mary Shelley, and Abraham Lincoln is a winner with me.

As a regular theater goer I am particular about standing ovations, but at Futurity’s last chord I sprang to my feet.  I lingered to chat with the cast, Eric gave me a tour of the drum contraption, Sammy Tunis stole my heart; and I purchased the CD.  Who knew I had such groupie genes.

I look forward to seeing Futurity again, and wonder how long it will be until another theatrical event captivates me so.

 

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Pedaling Principles Chapter Eighteen – Positive Approach Yields Positive Results

Guiding principles as a methodology to solve problems and maximize outcomes is a powerful tool.  It begins by finding the commonalties among diverse groups in any situation.  They are usually stronger than we anticipate.  It states in broad terms what we are trying to achieve, identifies the parameters we have to live by, and sets critical targets to measure our success.  Guiding principles operate on the tenet that we will maximize success for the greatest number without crippling any constituent.  Guiding principles always seeks win-win situations.  They do not tolerate disrespect, divisiveness or absolutes except those designated as such by the entire group. Everything is negotiable unless a consensus decides it is immutable.  In fact, any characteristic that the entire group considers non-negotiable becomes a guiding principle.  Guiding principles are not fixed for eternity but neither do they change with the breeze.  They evolve over time only as necessary to be responsive to significant societal shifts.

In this book I considered how the concept of guiding principles could help our country address issues of national identity, food and energy systems, social ethics, clean government, education, addiction, infrastructure, foreign affairs, the economy, and healthcare. I imagine if I had cycled through different states, other important issues might have surfaced.  I can imagine that Vermont might have conjured the environment, Virginia, veteran’s affairs; Texas, the penal system; Florida, senior care; Alabama, race relations or California, the media.  The details of those discussions might have been different, but the application of the guiding principles approach would have been similar. If I am lucky, maybe I can ponder those topics on another cycling trip.

An expected criticism of the guiding principles approach is that it is naïve, too upbeat and collaborative to ever be effective in the down and dirty world of national politics.  Cynics will tout, maybe this process can work in designing a new hospital, but allocating money among education, road repair, defense, and jobs creation is more complex and divisive than deciding whether a new wing will be dedicated to cardiology or oncology.

Actually, it is not any more complicated.  All the same factors are at play.  When a hospital builds a new wing they have to determine whether the wing will be designated to showcase their leading service, or if it will be an opportunity to grow an emerging service.  Will the addition expand their capacity or will it free up overtaxed existing capacity.  Will the new wing generate fresh revenue or is it necessary simply to meet contemporary standards of care like private inpatient rooms and robotic capable operating rooms.  The hospital has to weigh wider considerations like what their competitors are doing, how changing demographics affect demand for care, what makes a sound philanthropic case (pediatrics offers easier fund raising opportunities than urology) as well as ever shifting reimbursement rates.  The criteria that have to be factored to make reasoned decisions are complicated, but hospitals have to consider non-rational attributes as well – the intangible benefit of being the first in town to offer a newfangled technology and juggling the egos of all the doctors who want the bragging rights of a new wing.  Agreed, the scale of a $300 million hospital addition is small compared to managing a $14 trillion dollar economy, but the challenge of balancing immediate needs versus long term investment, using objective measures, and fending off emotional pleas is exactly the same.

There are two reasons why we need to adopt guiding principles as a methodology for addressing our national problems in an intentional way.  First, we know it can work; this was how our forefathers got the country started in the first place.  They brought together the divergent voices of the thirteen colonies and hammered out a solution that led to independence.  After we won our independence and instituted the Articles of Confederation we realized that it was not an effective form of government, so we came together again, wizened by the experience of too lax a federal system, to birth the Constitution in a similar process. In both cases the outcome was not known in advance; all sides took the risk to show up, air differences, find commonalties and forge a solution that worked best for all.  In both cases no side came away with everything they wanted, but all sides came away with enough to make the change desirable. In both cases we succeeded in making improvements, yet failed to address all the issues at hand.  Slavery turned out to be too contentious an issue to be resolved through negotiation, and eventually became the crux of the bloodiest war this nation has ever known.  What we could not resolve through principled debate got decided in a manner we never want to experience again.

The second reason to use guiding principles is that the current environment of partisan posturing does not work.  When every debate is framed to highlight opposing points of view, the more extreme the positions get the most media attention; they stir the drama, promote division and diminish the opportunity to come to agreement.  Our current political process is grinding down the fabric of this land.  It is diminishing our stature in the world, creating economic havoc and disengaging our citizens.

One of the most often used strategies for a person running for Congress is to run ‘againstWashington’, based on the premise that people in the Heartland disdain our Capital.  After cycling 3,000 miles through the Heartland I am confident this is a misguided strategy.  Americans do not disdain our Capital; we just hate the antics of politicians once they embrace Beltway games.  We love our Capital, but we want it to be strong, vital; we want it to act decidedly and keep our country moving in a confident direction.  We need a Federal Government; that is why we abandoned the Articles of Confederation and adopted the Constitution.   But we want a government equal to our best.  Our country has great problems, and individual Americans have great problems, which I metaphor as our obesity. Yet there are still many of us who are fit, energetic and curious, thrifty and prudent, and even more of us who, given the opportunity and incentive, can muster the discipline to shed our obese tendencies.

We want to reinvigorate this country, we are not afraid of the work required to rally our defining traits of independence, ingenuity and industry.  Our leaders cannot do it, locked in their ideological traps.  But fortunately for us we live in a country where ultimately the government belongs to the people and not the leaders.  It is our right and our privilege to demand that our politicians move away from a culture of division and towards one that triumphs our common interest.  It will require every individual in this country to find his voice and raise it loud toWashingtonuntil every elected official, every bureaucrat and every lobbyist hears our demands; they are so used to talking they barely listen.  We can demand they put aside their bickering, we can demand they work with us.  It is time to move this country forward again, in a direction guided by principle and not by partisanship.  The only way to move forward is together.

 

 

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Pedaling Principles Chapter Seventeen – Entitled to Contribute

I believe in the adage, ‘We get the government we deserve.’  I do not think it applies to everyone in the world; people living under tyrannical dictators have little choice but to endure until seeds of change can sprout, but in theUnited States, our system gives us enough opportunity to participate that the adage applies.  Yet as I rode through this country I could not help but notice how many citizens do not feel that way.  Government feels foreign; the world seems too complicated for any one individual to affect.  We say we want less government yet virtually all of us have a special interest or compelling need that we want the government to address.  We want the government to be efficient as business but we forget that if the tasks of government were profitable, businesses would do them.  Our government’s job is to address all the things that we as a society want done, efficient or not.  We feel out of control, we grasp for meaning. But unlike other quandaries put forth in this book, getting the government we deserve is not a chicken and egg question, it starts with citizens getting involved and demanding it. It begins with each of us, individually, improving ourselves, improving our families, improving our communities, improving our nation.

A dissonance has developed between our independent character and our burgeoning culture of entitlement.  The old fashioned notion that the government intervenes in emergencies but otherwise citizens shoulder on their own has been replaced by the philosophy that everyone has their hand in the till and, darn it, I want my share.  In the same vein that we cannot continue to borrow money for everything we want forever without one day the bill coming due, we cannot all receive benefits without paying for them.

From my perspective what we are entitled to as citizens of this country is not a benefit or a handout or a tax break.  What we are entitled to is a more supreme privilege; to be active participants in our government.  Billions of people around the world are denied this opportunity, yet so many of us squander it here. At the very least this privilege means that we vote, and vote intelligently.  It means we understand how our government works and that we feel empowered by our ability to be part of the democratic process.  Being part of the process does not insure that our point of view will prevail, but it ensures our voice will be heard and our arguments will be respected.

The path to leaner, more responsive government will not occur through cutting taxes or lopping programs if everyone is intent on extracting her personal share. Only higher debt and greater discord will result from that.  The path to leaner, more responsive government will only occur when individuals realize that it is a privilege to contribute to the common pool.  When people prefer to stand on their own two feet rather than lean against someone else with their hands out.  Just as a consumer-based economy will not find balance, so to a consumer-based government will never achieve equilibrium.  The objective of government is not to dole out benefits to individuals.  The objective of government is to manage the system of rules, shared property, and common interests we develop to shape our society.  When those rules warrant actions to help individuals in need, the elderly, children, disaster victims, whomever, we bestow benefits to certain individuals, but the benefits are the expression of our collective interest, not the reason for government.

The most distressing and ubiquitous condition I observed as I travelled this country was the epidemic of obesity.  I believe there is a link between the dissonance we have with our government and the dissonance we are creating within our own bodies.  Our government is bloated, alien and unresponsive, and so are we.

Perhaps I could have observed analogies of related traits; drinking or smoking, promiscuity or depression.  But no other disability is growing so quickly or, to be frank, so visibly, as obesity.  Fat people are everywhere in America.  I also have a personal relationship with the obesity epidemic because I was a fat child.  I suffered the awkwardness of not being able to keep up with others, of being unattractive and uncomfortable in my too ample skin.  On the flip side, as an average sized adult I decided that I wanted to lose the cushion around my middle and in the past three years I have lost twenty pounds through exercise, improved diet and healthier habits.  Neither of these experiences makes me a candidate for a makeover reality show.  Still, what I gained in the process was more than looser fitting jeans.  I gained discipline, confidence, and the understanding that although I cannot control every aspect of my life, I have more control than I previously understood.

These days I weigh 160 pounds or so.  I can’t imagine getting down to 150, but then again, when I weighed over 180, 160 seemed like a fantasy.  I still eat everything I did before; just less of it.  I accept hunger as a feeling that occurs during my day, like being drowsy or energetic or thirsty or full. When I am hungry I eat, but not always right away. Sometimes I let hunger linger; it does not always have to be satiated on demand. When I feel hunger I become more aware of my body, I observe the hollow in my stomach, I contract my abdomen, reveling in the taut middle that used to be spongy.  I embrace hunger; I learn from it, and eventually I satisfy it, both with nourishing food and my own penchant for sweets.  I am not about to starve, or even compromise my productivity by allowing a hunger craving to linger.  Hunger is a messenger telling my body it will need food; it is not a dictator with immediate needs.

Having been fat and now thin; being very conscious of what I eat and how I exercise makes obesity an issue I can relate to at a personal level. I have experienced alcohol and cigarettes and inhaled a few illegal drugs, but they never registered as more than incidental experiences in my psyche.  My addictive streak runs through food; what I just ate and what I will soon eat are never far from my mind.  My attention to food, and its corollary of exercise, is ever present. I have learned to ward off the immediate gratification of that brownie with the disciplined understanding that the brownie does not serve my long tern interests well.  I still eat brownies, and I enjoy them; actually I enjoy them more than I did before because now a brownie it is a treat in the fullest sense of that word.  I have learned to eat enough food to sustain my body and to understand that like so many other aspects of life, enough is actually better than more.

As a nation, we have not grown fat and happy, we have grown fat and unhappy, and neither characteristic is attractive.  Obesity is the physical manifestation of being disconnected, from ourselves, from our families, from our community, from our national identity, and from our country.  This is logical since obese people create an internal schism between their bodies and their selves; many are so big they cannot actually ‘feel’ their physical extents, others simply refuse to recognize that giant mass in the mirror, that bulk that causes so much lethargy and strain, as an integral part of their being.  We only have one body; it is the vessel God gave us to carry our spirit.  Yet millions of us are abusing our bodies and then pointing beyond ourselves to assign blame for our discomfort.

The alarming disregard for our physical bodies that I witnessed in my travels filters through every topic I mused upon during my journey.  There are the obvious connections. Our national weight problem is tied to the foods we eat, how we manufacture them, how we price them, and how we deliver them; to our sedentary lifestyles dependent on driving, and to the astronomical healthcare costs associated with so many obese people.  Then there are the less obvious relationships.  As we grow obese we have less control over own bodies and compensate by seeking greater control over others; obesity breeds intolerance. When we are fat we have less energy to do physical work, and some studies indicate obesity adversely affects intelligence as well.  Obese people suffer social rejection; make less money than healthier people and live shorter lives.  Eventually I came to understand obesity not as a singular problem but as a syndrome that drains us of vitality and wellbeing.  It obstructs our independence.

I believe our inherent drive to be independent is a positive force among Americans.  Being independent means that we can do many things for ourselves and have choices about how and when we interact with others.  It means we affect the shape of our own lives, have some control over the events around us and perhaps even guide those events.  Sure, stuff happens that we cannot control; hurricanes, floods and earthquakes, car accidents, disease, downsizing, and death.  Even the most prepared of us experience unexpected events.  But the reality is, accidents happen less to people who drive defensively, disease occurs less in people who nurture their bodies and spirits, downsizing is less catastrophic for a person with good education and flexible skills, and death occurs later to those who lead a healthy life.  Mother Nature’s treachery is so far beyond our control all we can do is respect it, which is appropriate because no matter how advanced we may think we are, we are still just another species on this amazing planet.

The key to being truly independent is not to control everything, but to control enough.  To have a hand on the tiller of our destiny so that maneuvering the currents and storms is an adventure more often than it is a tragedy.

Independence cannot be achieved without personal responsibility.  Our society offers more opportunity for independence than any on earth.  Our system of government ensures it, our open markets, free education, and abundant resources foster it.  True, two hundred years ago the independence afforded by an emerging nation was greater than it is today, but that was the past.  Measured in the present, our country still offers more independence than any other, which is why despite our problems, immigrants clamor to come here.

It is disheartening to see so many Americans abdicate our independence by allowing obesity and its attendant challenges to infiltrate our bodies.  It is even worse to see how we gain weight and lose esteem, gain weight and lose confidence, gain weight and lose mobility until we metastasize from independent spirits to victims who have abdicated control of our most personal possession, our own body.  Responsible, independent people suffer setbacks, make poor judgments, and have bad luck, but that does not make them victims.  Victims think they have no choice; that everything is beyond their control.  And they are wrong.  No one in this country has unfettered choice, but all of us have some choice. Every day every one of us decides whether to watch TV or take a walk, whether to eat a cruller or a banana, whether to complain about a problem or act on it, whether to extend an empty hand expecting someone else to fill it or extend a hand nourished by our national resources to lift up someone less fortunate, whether to seek alms from the common pool or contribute to it.

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Pedaling Principles Chapter 16 – Critical Success Targets for the Bike Trip – How Did I Do?

I arrived back in Cambridge on the evening of September 3 after pedaling 3,050 miles; a very convoluted route from Denver to Cambridge, but for reasons that are not logical I found it was easier to make spontaneous detours at ten miles per hour than I ever do in a car going sixty.  Nothing seems out of the way when the way is so leisurely.  My route itself was irregular, I may be the first ever person who concocted a vacation whose landmark destinations were Denver, Oklahoma City, New Harmony Indiana, the Erie Canal, and Cambridge.  Yet even within those quirky parameters, I sidetracked in search of local color.  Without detours I would not have seen the teepees in Fiyol, Oklahoma or the levies in Cape Girardeau, MO, the Lincoln-Douglas debate site in Illinois or the courthouse in Salem, IN; the horse farms outside Coventry, KY or the provocative corner of E.66th and Hough in Cleveland, Presque Isle State Park in PA, the Oneida Community Mansion House in NY, or discovered the lovely Lenox Inn in the Berkshires.

I sought solitude on this trip, wondering how so many days of being alone would rest on my psyche. I don’t believe I felt lonely or alone, even once.  During the day I was engrossed with my travel.  I spent the evenings composing my blog and as the direction of this book took shape, I spent increasing amounts of time collecting the thoughts scribed here.  I felt a luxury of time, yet was too occupied to feel the least bit lonely.  On lovely evenings I wandered the towns where I stayed, cherishing the notion that I happened upon such provocative places by chance and in most cases will never return to them again.

I met my first critical success target well – I arrived home two days ahead of schedule.  For this I thank Mother Nature.  I never missed a day of riding because of bad weather.  I took one rest day when Hurricane Irene stormed up the east coast, lingering in Rochester, NY to stay wide of her anger. That proved judicious; as I cycled east I witnessed many signs of her devastation and heard tales of closed roads and bridges, but I was far enough behind the destruction that it did not delay me. Otherwise I got caught in an afternoon thunderstorm in Limon, CO, a light shower outside of Ozark,MO, a drizzle in Massillon, OH, and a twenty minute deluge in Cleveland. Although I did not cherish 100 degree plus temperatures for ten days in a row, I had gorgeous cycling weather.

I reached my critical targets on safety with flying colors; no accidents, no spills, not even an excuse to open my first aid kit.  Giving a nod or wave to every car entering from my right or poised for a left turn became second nature.  The funny thing I discovered was how many people perked up and smiled back at me.  Everyone likes to be noticed.  I wore bright yellow every day, and where there was no shoulder I claimed the road to make sure I was seen.  A total of four people made unwelcome comments or horn blasts designed to annoy rather than inform, most of them, predictably, in New York and Massachusetts where the drivers were significantly more aggressive.  I spent the most amount of time on narrow, shoulderless roads in Missouri and I have to give that state’s drivers credit for being the most courteous and cycle conscious drivers anywhere.

I did not fare quite as well on my other measures. I stayed in vintage motels the majority of the time, but half a dozen nights I settled for budget chains.  Only once did I spend more than $100; the Hampton Inn inMassillon OH is the only game in town and I was beat that day.  It was the nicest place I stayed, if the measure is amenities for the business traveller.  By my own parameters only two motels met the three criteria of having actual room keys (as opposed to card swipes), original pink and green tile bathrooms and casual chairs outside every room; Malone’s Motel in Mountain View, MO and Yellow Springs Motel in Yellow Springs, OH.  Malone’s was the least expensive place I stayed all trip, $30, tax included, and it could not have been nicer.  Honorable mentions have to go to the Lockport Motel and Suites in Lockport, NY for being the most unique place I stayed and the Lenox Inn in Lenox, MA for being lovely in every respect.  Their refreshing swimming pool made up for having stripped the bathrooms of its vintage tile.

I fared better with my food targets. I never spent more than twenty dollars and rarely more than ten.  My most expensive meal was the buffet at the Bella Terra Casino in Markland, IN; the least expensive was breakfast at JR’s Place in Jonesboro, IL which served me the best pancakes of my life (as well as eggs) for under five dollars.  I admit to having the Saturday buffet at Shoney’s once and lunch at Subway a handful of times, but otherwise I ate only at independent places, never had a bad meal and ate stupendous food, either because it was really good or I was just too hungry to know any better.  I arrived home three pounds lighter than I left.  My most memorable lunch was at Shorty’s Café in Buffalo, OK, with the very caring waitresses, but I also enjoyed my first pretzel sandwich in Millersburg, OH, incredible biscuits and gravy in French Lick, IN, remarkable Mexican food in Garden City, KS and I became an eagle eye for Chinese buffets all along my route.  I am sure they made no money on me, as I took the idea of all you can eat chicken and broccoli very seriously.

Although the stated goals and objectives of any project are the formal measure of its success, every project also generates unanticipated benefits, and sometimes collateral problems. In the case of my cycling trip, the things I could not have anticipated became some of the most lasting experiences.

The waitresses at Shorty’s Café were wonderful, but I found friendly, loving, efficient waitresses everywhere.  They work hard and lift the spirits of everyone who enter their establishment.  The pair of waitresses at Carol and Ted’s in Lakeport, NY managed to include the entire restaurant in a discussion about strategies for gaming at the Indian casino in nearby Oneida.  The very next morning the waitress/cook at Mona’s in Herkimer gave me the requisite ‘honey’ greeting and shoulder hug along with a detailed rundown of the various Hurricane Irene related closings, and then fixed me a fine breakfast.  After she rang me up and I had tipped her she said, “Oh, I forgot you asked for your toast dry; I am so sorry I put butter on it.”  I smiled; used to the reality that most waitresses overlook my unusual request for dry toast but unaccustomed to someone actually apologizing for the minor slip.  Her apology, like every aspect of her being, was service in the extreme and completely sincere.

I appreciated Walmart and McDonald’s in new ways.  I was not familiar with Walmart; they have not made the inroads in NewEngland they have everywhere else, though I had heard they were ubiquitous.  Until I actually saw them in town after town (and the empty old stores that lie in their wake) I did not realize how completely they revolutionized the supply side of our consumer culture. I kept a few Cliff Builder’s bars in my saddlebag for snacks and occasionally needed bicycle tubes. I never bought anything else, but those two items were available in every Walmart whenever I wanted them.  McDonald’s offered the benefit of the Wi-Fi break. McDonald’s Wi-Fi is very reliable and though it is completely free, I always purchased a soft drink or an ice cream cone while occupying a seat. I could nurse a soda for two hours checking email and posting my blog; no one ever hurried me off.  We bemoan how these chains have stripped American towns of their identity but we are slow to acknowledge that they bring people what they want.  Walmart and McDonald’s are the dry goods and restaurant equivalents of the industrial food plants of Dodge City,KS.  What they provide may be less than ‘nourishing’ than we deserve, but their ability to offer consistent product absolutely everywhere is remarkable.  Besides, the people watching at McDonald’s is top-notch.  Business men, teenagers, families, elderly, virtually everyone goes to McDonald’s.

Beyond bike tubes and power bars in small towns and afternoon Wi-Fi breaks, my trip became a seeking out and savoring of endangered aspects of America, pockets where time drifts unmeasured and individual touch is a value add.  Ten years from now, maybe less, many of the places I visited will be gone, the motels converted into studios for itinerant workers, boarded or torn down completely.  Already in many towns there are no independent motels, and it is easy to see why.  In Colonie, NY I stayed at an EconoLodge for $59 that offered a huge room with modern bath, granite counters, ironing board, hair dryer, Internet access and a complimentary breakfast in the fireplaced lobby.  Everything you could possibly want at a great price, except for character.  It is efficient to have dozens of identical rooms and a new face at the desk every eight hours.  But I will not remember that motel as long as I will recall the salty desk clerk in Yellow Springs who reminded me that he lived in the back, so unless it was an emergency, please don’t call after ten.  He set out baskets and stacks of fresh fruit, juice and muffins for guests to compile their own breakfast the night before, and littered ny cozy room with handmade signs invoking me to enjoy my stay. I did.

 

 

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Haiti Relief – A Personal Status Report

A frequent question I get when I am in the United States is, “Are things improving in Haiti?”  My response is an affirmative because things are improving in Haiti.  Every time I land in Port au Prince there are fewer people living in tents, less debris, and more paved roads.  On a relative scale, improvement must be acknowledged.

The follow-up question is always, “How has the aid money been spent?”  That question makes me stumble because although improvement is evident, the correlation between the sums donated to rebuild Haiti and reconstruction in place is small.

The outpouring of charitable support in the wake of the Haiti earthquake was phenomenal.  $4.6 billion was pledged to rebuild Haiti, $1.3 from the United States alone (Huffington Post).  Subsequent international disasters, the Chile earthquake in February 2010 and the Japanese tsunami of 2011 triggered only a fraction of that support.  Unlike Chile or Japan, we know that Haiti cannot stand on its own even without the burden of disaster; and the entire world understood that we would have to come to Haiti’s aid or the place would slip even further away from standards of health, education, and well-being that the rest of us enjoy. We gave out of compassion, we gave out of guilt, we gave to support people in need who are much like us; we gave to support people who seem alien;  we gave in cash and by check, online and by text.   Whatever our reasons, we donated money at an unprecedented level.

Let’s put $4.6 billion in an American context.  From my experience as a healthcare architect, that would build ten replacement hospitals, of 500 beds each, complete with operating rooms, MR’s, CT’s and emergency rooms.  Or it could build 460,000 houses at $10,000 each, far above Haitian standards.  Or it could provide 4.6 million medical treatments at $1,000 each or it could provide 3 billion meals at $1.50 each, which is the going rate for a barbequed chicken in Grand Goave.  That would buy over 300 meals for every person living in Haiti.

Not fair, I hear the multitudes cry.  The logistics of delivering aid are staggering, the clean-up alone Herculean, the subsequent outbreaks of cholera and the hurricane in 2011 further tapped aid.  I concede to every counterpoint, but it still will never add up to any demonstration that the $4.6 billion that generous citizens around the world gave to Haiti has been used responsibly.  Not for lack of goodwill or lack of trying, but because any amount of money, even $4.6 billion, is ineffective in a situation of confusion, terror and miscoordination.

We must acknowledge that our basic assumptions are wrong.  The earthquake relief money is not going to rebuild Haiti.  It is supposed to build Haiti.  Haiti was an environmentally depleted country of shacks without roads, sanitation, education, an economy, or trustworthy institutions before the earthquake. It was administered by the United Nations because the ‘public’ government was a sham, the unofficial government of the eleven ruling families steeped in corruption and the bevy of over 3,000 NGO’s made the country the beta testing ground for uncoordinated philanthropic adventure. No one donated relief money after the earthquake to recreate that.

Post-earthquake we have the same stew of chaos, plus a quarter of a million dead (estimates vary from 200,000 to 316,000) plus destruction and depravation that lead to even more hunger and disease.  We have a floodgate of pledges but few reliable hands to steer it to best use.  Even in the face of disaster, the fingers closest to the pot of gold get the biggest handfuls of coin, which is the only way we can describe how 83 percent of the USAID contracts for Haitian relief when to for-private companies around the DC Beltway while only 2.5 percent went to Haitian private companies and less than ½% went to Haitian non-profit organizations (Center for Economic Policy and Research).

The bad news is that we are more than two years out from this tragedy.  The big infusions of aid are history; people have moved on to other causes.  Still we have 500,000 people living in tents and they don’t receive the food aid, sanitary supplies and cholera medications they did a year ago, the emergency medical teams are fewer while the infrastructure for permanent medical care is still scant, and as far as I can tell the only sector of the Haitian economy that has grown is the ever ballooning presence of aid organizations.

The good news is that there seems to be consensus that the new President Martelly is an okay guy, balancing what might help the Haitian people against the almighty foreign interests that play such a strong hand in Haiti’s fate.  The aid organizations still on the ground have moved from a ‘transition’ mode to a ‘stable’ mode, focusing on creating permanent housing and schools and reliable infrastructure.  Perhaps the best news is that, by being so inefficient, only 43% of the pledged aid has been spent.  There is still over two billion dollars earmarked to build Haiti.  With a legitimate government to coordinate NGO efforts and increased emphasis on planned, systematic development, I am hopeful that the next few billion will reap more results than the last.

I have to be hopeful, it is the mindset that prompts me to return to Haiti every month and offer my hand to create change.  For I have made a conscious choice to offer my hand instead of my wallet.  I believe there are real limits to what money can do.  Money is the handmaiden of power, and as just aggregated power corrupts, so does aggregated money.  When the amounts grow to the incomprehensible range of $4.6 billion, the relative impact of additional money dissipates.  I will never disparage anyone who writes a check to help out a fellow human being, but when we have the opportunity to actually meet that person and witness their life, we allow for understanding that no money can buy.

I like to think that the orphanage and school projects are more effective than other aid projects in Haiti, yet we are riddled with inefficiencies.  It is tragic when we cannot accept donations of good quality building materials because the cost of shipping them to Haiti and getting them through customs makes them prohibitive.   It is unfortunate that we have to spend money people donated to build an orphanage in Brit’s honor to pay four security guards to watch the site every night. These are the costs of doing business in Haiti, even if your business is cloaked in the name of good.  Our stats fare well compared with other efforts.  All of our American ‘experts’ in design and construction work for free, so the lion’s share of donations directly buy building materials and pay wages to Haitian workers.   The school and orphanage are not designed to be prototypes that will be easily replicated; they are custom solutions to their unique sites and the people they memorialize.  Still, we are serious in our efforts to teach our workers skills that will enable them to build more solid buildings moving forward.

Because ultimately our goal is not to measure the effectiveness of aid to Haiti, but to help Haiti achieve enough autonomy that it no longer needs our aid.

 

 

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Pedaling Princples chapter Fifteen – Massachusetts, The State of Our Health

I rolled over the pass between Perry Peak and Shaker Mountain and headed home into Massachusetts.  Not far beyond the Pittsfield sign I saw the familiar blue square with the white H directing me to a hospital nearby.  Welcome back to Massachusetts, where healthcare is never far away.

Massachusetts spends $6,682 per capita annually on healthcare, more than any other state according to the Kaiser Family Foundation State Health Facts. Like all issues in healthcare, whether you think this is money well spent depends on which side of the fence you place yourself.  So what does Massachusetts get for paying highest in the nation for healthcare?  More than ninety-five percent of Massachusetts residents are covered by healthcare insurance, as opposed to 83% nationwide. 82% visit the dentist (71% nationally), proportionately more Massachusetts citizens are on Medicare and Medicaid, and the state is below average in terms of infant mortality, childhood obesity, teen suicide, AIDS diagnoses, and adults with disabilities. At first glance it appears there is value in so much healthcare spending. Massachusetts is a relatively wealthy state that ranks in the top ten in most measures of personal wealth.  The median household income is just over $64,000.  It has a highly educated populace with more college degree holders (age 25-34) than any other state, and only fifteen percent of people inMassachusetts live below the poverty line (versus 20% nationally).  By most measures Massachusetts is thinner and fitter than other states but it would be misleading to celebrate that, as Massachusetts residents are still more obese than any state’s citizens were twenty years ago. We may be doing better than our peers, but we are still too fat.

How to interpret these statistics is yet another chicken and egg question.  Is our relatively good health because we spend so much on healthcare, or consequently, if we are so healthy, why do we need to spend so much on healthcare?

Since 2006 all Massachusetts residents have been required to have health insurance.  The law includes a range of incentives for employers and individuals, including penalties for non-compliance, and has enabled a boost in the number of people insured.  But medical costs continue to rise more or less in sync with increases in other states and medical bankruptcies continue on par with the rest of the country.  Since Massachusetts already had a fairly high rate of insured citizens, high healthcare costs, and good health outcomes before mandated insurance, the results of healthcare reform are difficult to gauge, though most studies indicate net positive outcomes.

Massachusetts healthcare is deeply vested in what I refer as the healthcare industrial complex – high technology, high acuity medicine focused on people who have already developed serious diseases. Massachusetts claims more doctors per capita than any other state, and with four major academic medical centers (Harvard, Tufts, UMass and BostonUniversity) and twenty academic teaching hospitals, Massachusettsis an important center of medical research and leading edge technology.

Since Massachusetts healthcare reform was the blueprint for the national healthcare legislation referred to as Obamacare, and is a leading player in research and treatment, it is a good guide to where our healthcare system is headed, a system that relies on insurers as intermediaries to people seeking access to healthcare and focuses on treating disease with technology rather than preventing disease through early intervention.  This is consistent with the American character, since we hate to have people tell us what to do and we love innovative solutions.  Our healthcare system doesn’t offer any comprehensive strategy for us to stay thin or be fit, but when we get so fat that we need our stomach stapled, the system will foot the bill.

The failings of our healthcare system are well documented. It is the most expensive in the world by a wide margin (16% GDP vs 6-9% in most other developed countries), and does not provide commensurate outcomes (ranked anywhere from fifth to thirtieth in various studies).  We are the only industrialized nation that does not provide healthcare as a right to all citizens, which again is consistent with our character, since we prefer to stress individual freedoms over collective rights.

From a guiding principles perspective we have to determine how healthcare fits in our quest to form a more perfect union.   There is really only one question that should drive the healthcare debate – are Americans entitled to receive healthcare as a right?  If we determine the answer to that question is yes, then we can establish the parameters around healthcare (what services should be provided) and create critical success targets to measure how well we achieve our goal.  If the answer is no, then the government should get out of the healthcare business and let people buy it themselves, either by paying outright or buying private insurance.  Instead we are enmeshed in a typically American, piecemeal approach to the problem.  Our individualistic streak is not comfortable declaring that everyone is entitled to healthcare; that is socialism; while our compassionate side is unwilling to let people die for lack of care.  So we cobble together a system where certain segments of our population, the elderly, children, the very poor, have near universal access while the rest of us have to pay if we can and have emergent access even if we can’t. The result is this expensive system of extreme care with little focus on well-being or prevention.  Similar to how we discuss education, when we debate the issue of healthcare, we focus on the mechanics of the system rather than the root cause.  If we could make the decision that everyone is entitled to healthcare, the mechanisms of the system could evolve in a logical way from that decision. Without addressing the big question, we are bogged down in logistics that will never produce adequate results because we have not articulated the problem we seek to solve.

T. R. Reid’s thoughtful book, The Healing of Ameirca; A Global Quest for Better, Cheaper, and Fairer Healthcare is a cogent analysis of the shortcomings of our system and an insightful outline of healthcare in both developed and developing societies.  He synthesizes all major healthcare systems into four types; the private insurance model (Germany), the socialist model (Great Britain), the single payer model (Canada) and the cash model (India).  He posits that the biggest challenge with our system is that all four of these models coexist.  We have socialist style medicine for Veterans, single payer for Medicare recipients, private insurance for those who buy it, and the cash model for people who don’t fall into any of the other three categories.  He provides convincing arguments that a primary driver of our sky high costs result from our multiple models as they create incentives for the private components of the system to shuffle their worst cases onto the public realm.  He demonstrates how socialist and single payer models provide the best opportunities to promote wellness and preventive care over acute responsiveness since they are essentially policy arms of government.  He also shows how Germany, a 100% private system with universal coverage, is most like our own insurance system, yet the fact that it is universal actually results in meaningful savings, as the insurers have more transparent ways of bearing the cost of their worst cases than American insurers. While Germany’s system may not be perfect, they provide healthcare to all their citizens for about two-thirds the cost we do and have better outcomes.

Our present multiple healthcare systems tap too many resources for the benefits they provide.  Regardless of providing better, more appropriate care, our systems will have to simplify and become more efficient or they will further drag down our economic competitiveness.  When we spend 16% of our economic output on healthcare (with some estimates projecting 20% by 2015) while our industrialized competitors are spending 1/2 to 2/3 that, and developing nations spend less than a third, we have created a giant hurdle that we must overcome with higher productivity if we hope to maintain an economic edge.

Moving towards simpler, more uniform ways of taking care of sick people is a worthy objective, but it is really just the first order benefit of a longer range goal.  Ultimately we should develop a true heath care system where education, well being, and prevention are the precursors to treatment; a comprehensive model to help people make informed decisions about how they live their lives, with the cost of poor health decisions allocated to the individual in as pure a form as possible.  There is no reason why health insurance premiums cannot be tagged to incentives to reduce weight, increase fitness, stop smoking, have good driving habits, you name it.  Ultimately our healthcare system should incentivize healthy living as much as possible but acknowledge that as human beings we have foibles and as Americans we cherish the right to do as we like, even when it is not in our best interests, such that, after paying a premium for the privilege of unhealthy behaviors, the system will care for all of us, fat or thin, smoker or nonsmoker, drinker or teetotaler.

On the Friday before Labor Day weekend I encountered many cyclists as I pedaled over the Berkshires from Pittsfield to Northampton, whose downtown oozed with pedestrians.  I witnessed dozens of walkers and cyclists along the bike path to Amherst.  As the gorgeous holiday weekend progressed I continued to see people enjoying exercise.  Even so, for every cyclist I saw, I passed at least ten obese people, for every runner I saw, I witnessed dozens of angry headed drivers, for every hiker I saw, I rode by twenty smokers. Massachusetts may be healthier than its sister states, but we still have a long way to go to proclaim ourselves as healthy.

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Architecture Grand Goave

The other day I stopped short at the site of this elegant little building, the only one I have seen in Grand Goave that approaches the designation architecture.  I say that because it does what so much good architecture does; it respects its locale and traditions yet interprets them in a way that is fresh and elegant.

Buildings in Grand Goave proper are concrete, but in the countryside many people live in houses that are simple wooden frames with gable tin roofs walled with a lattice of sticks or palms.  The roof extends on one end to create an entry porch.  When people get money they waddle the walls with plaster, which makes the house last longer, but if plaster is not available people leave the lattice exposed and when nature decays their walls they replace them with materials they can collect lying around their yard.  These are houses of the poor.  The only worse are shacks of cardboard.

So it is counterintuitive to see the same house reinterpreted to a city lot, and even more unexpected to see the new building have such graceful proportions.  The roof is steeper than its country cousin’s, more substantial.  The building has three equal bays, two enclosed and one open.  The columns are a pair of 2×4’s with an intermediate spacer, which provides stability without heavy and expensive framing, yet is also reminiscent of E. Fay Jones.  The lattice work is made of uniform slats, providing a taut crispness that palm fronds and sticks cannot achieve.

I have no idea whose house it is, or whether they intended to create something that would catch an architect’s eye.  The fact that it sits at the back of the lot and has a pile of concrete block in front of it implies that someone is intending it as an accessory building to use while they build the real thing.  As far as I am concerned, they have created the real thing.

 Vernacular Lattice House

Contemporary Lattice House

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Pedaling Principles Chapter 14 – New York, Money as the Measure of Empire

One of the ironies of America is that we were founded on lofty principles of man’s right for self-determination and a bevy of personal freedoms, but as soon as the country got rolling, one freedom never explicitly stated took hold of our imagination and we have never let it go since – the freedom to make money.  When James Carville, Bill Clinton’s political strategist, coined the phrase “It’s the economy, stupid.” During the 1992 presidential election, he captured the elemental reality of American life; money drives all.  The United States is probably the most money mad country in the world, if not the history of the world, and New York, the capital of money, is where money talks like nowhere else.

I entered New York in Ripley, about as far from Wall Street as a person can get in New York State.  There is something audacious about the ‘Welcome to New York– The Empire State’ sign standing along the quiet two lane road. How can a state be an empire within a country that itself has never been comfortable wearing tha label?    The emblem of New York is featured on the sign, liberty and justice flanking a pastoral scene with the motto ‘Excelsior’ bannered beneath.  Ever higher, always upward, Excelsior is as lofty a motto as a state can claim.  Confronted with terms like Empire and Excelsior, I considered the gauntlet drawn.  During my week pedaling through New York I would observe how the state lived up to its claims.  Is it truly an empire, reaching ever higher, and is money the barometer of those claims?

By most measures New York is not what it used to be.  It is no longer the most populous state, or even the second; California and Texas make those claims.  Nor does it have the highest average personal income. New York City is no longer the largest city in the world, or even in the top ten.  Even Wall Street does not call all the economic shots anymore, though it still eclipses any other market.  The glory days of New York mirror those of the United States as a whole almost perfectly.  The sensibilities of the American Century are the sensibilities of New York, snappy sophistication, money, and power delivered up with a can-do attitude, judging people by what they’ve done more than how they were born, yet judging them nonetheless.

My plan was to continue along Lake Erie on the western edge of the state, pedal along the Erie Canal and Mohawk Valley, through the Capital District and into the Berkshires.  Even though I would cycle through Buffalo, Rochester, Syracuse and Albany, New York’s second, third, fifth and sixth largest cities (Yonkers is fourth), by New York standards I was wading through the provinces.  Upstate contains 95% of New York’s land area but only 40% of its population; 60% of New Yorkers are scrunched into the ten counties that comprise the New York Metropolitan area.  Still, seven million New Yorkers live Upstate, enough to make it the 13th most populous state if it stood independent of the Big Apple.  And they all live under the banner of the Empire State.

The first day I cycled through New York I kept an eye out for appropriate measures of empire.  Wealth is one measure for sure, but empire also implies influence; a society that exerts itself beyond its borders. Cycling through Dunkirk and into Fredonia gave me no reason to think that New York had advantage over other places.  But on my second day, as I approached Buffalo rising in the grey distance beyond the bluffs of Lake Erie, I felt the power of the place.  Perhaps I was just lucky in my route, but meandering through Buffalo, as I had done in other cities, revealed a solid place, brick and granite and well-tended.  If I did not know about Buffalo’s statistical decline in population, I would not have surmised the city was shrinking.  Downtown was clean and busy, the Olmstead Parkways beautifully groomed, and though there were ample for sale signs on houses in working class areas, I did not ride through any neighborhoods with the desperation of boarded houses and the ‘$0 Down and $398 per month’ signs that littered Ohio.  When Buffalo hosted the Pan American Exhibition in 1901 it had 350,000 people, was a major railroad, seaport and industrial center and had every reason to expect that it would continue as a leading American city.  But the Saint Lawrence Seaway ended the commercial viability of the Erie Canal forever, Rust Belt industries tumbled and people found reasons to escape the harsh winters.   Today the population is dropping fast from a 1950 peak of 580,000 to under half that, 261,000.  Despite the tumble, it has lower unemployment than the national average and Forbes magazine recently listed it as one of the top ten cities to raise a family.  While no city would choose to deflate, I was impressed by how Buffalo is managing such a soft landing. It has shifted its economy to stress education and healthcare over industry, extolls the virtues of easy commutes and minimal traffic.  While Cleveland’s idle infrastructure makes the place feel alien, Buffalo’s excess capacity provides elbow room. During Buffalo’s prime, the city invested in institutions and planning that reflect grand ambition.  This pride of place has weathered downsizing well, which left me wondering if perhaps a measure of empire, like a wealthy dowager, might be its ability to age with grace.

The role of money in empire can be distilled into two numbers, $1,700,000 versus $289,000.  One point seven million dollars was the average price for aManhattan condo in October 2010, 1700 square feet or so with two bedrooms in a respectable neighborhood.  This is down from the peak of 2008, but is still a stratospheric number for most of us. $289,000 is the asking price for a 4,000 square foot, five bedroom Italianate mansion on Center Street in Medina, NY, compete with swimming pool, separate garage and mature landscaping; a grand house with beautiful period detail and a charming widow’s walk in a prime location of an elegant town.  These two numbers tell a deeper story than the real estate adage of location, location, location.  They represent our complicated relationship with money.  A person who buys a Manhattan condo is investing in it; she may live there but the purchase price has more to do with expectations of market rises and falls than the actual cost of providing shelter.  On the other hand, whoever buys the mansion in Medina will buy it because they want to live there. A quick Internet survey indicates that the Italianate masterpiece is the most expensive house on the market in Medina, and there is no reason to expect prices in this Snowbelt town to climb anytime soon. From another perspective it is a great deal because unlike the Manhattan Condo, no one could recreate this incredible house for the asking price.

Money is one of man’s greatest inventions. We have created a medium of exchange with no inherent worth that represents whatever value we assign to any good or service.  This is a sophisticated concept.  In the past money actually represented something, most recently gold bullion in Fort Knox.  When a dollar represented a specific amount of gold and that gold was secured away in a vault, there was a clear connection between a dollar bill and a tangible asset.  But that quaint relationship died for good in 1973 when we went off the gold standard, then priced at $42 per ounce.  Now, with gold selling for over $1500 per ounce, the relationship between a dollar and the price of gold is as speculative as the cost of a Manhattan condo.  These days money is abstract, free to float in value.  Yet the more abstract money becomes, the more central it is in our lives.

The amount we pay for anything today has more to do with perception than any fixed value.  The cost of production of any good or service is just one component in determining its price.  Traditional economic principles like supply and demand can affect price, but so can social policy.  Cigarettes cost more than their production warrants because we tax them high to discourage their use; hybrid cars are relatively cheaper than their production cost because we provide tax rebates to encourage their use.  But as money becomes less fixed to anything tangible, the more price is determined by psychological factors, often resulting in wild extremes.  That is why I can buy a hamburger for one dollar at McDonald’s (according to personal observation) or for $175 at the Wall Street Burger Shoppe (according to Gothamist.com).  Once external forces determine that something is desirable, whether it be a fashionable accessory, a watering hole or a tony address, the price of it rises. If something happens to be both desirable and unique, the price rises even more.  The mansion in Medina is unique, but Medina is not considered desirable, while the average Manhattan condo is desirable, though not unique.  Unique condos in Manhattan can sell for ten times the $1.7 million average.

The psychological importance of money reaches its zenith as we realize that even the money itself, the paper and coins, is disappearing. Most of us carry incidental cash in our pockets, but the majority of money in our lives is nothing but numbers on spreadsheets.  Some of us have positive numbers on brokerage accounts or bank statements, most of us have negative numbers on credit card bills. Forget worrying that there is no gold that corresponds to our dollars; in the twenty-first century there are no dollars that correspond to our dollars.  In an overheated economy more people buy and sell more goods, money changes hands rapidly, and there is more money. When a recession hits people buy less, there are fewer transactions on our respective spreadsheets and there is less money.  Taken to the extreme there really isn’t any money at all – all we have are numbers on spreadsheets that tally our collective deposits and withdrawals in the consumer world.  Conventional wisdom says you can’t buy anything if you have no money.  The fuzzy math of floating currency leads to the exact opposite conclusion.  If no one buys anything, then there isn’t any money.

Given our predilection to consume, we don’t have to worry too much about people not buying anything, so money is here to stay.  In fact, we buy so much that most of us are in debt.  The average household has over $15,000 in credit card debt alone; load the car loans and mortgages on top of that.  Debt has become a way of life for many Americans, with the result being that debt is more socially acceptable; even bankruptcy has lost its sting.

There was a time when being free of debt was considered a virtue, now we value the trait that someone is ‘good with money’.  Guys who know how to buy low and sell high, negotiate a great deal, and otherwise ‘make’ money without actually creating any value are highly rewarded.  One look at Wall Street salaries will shatter any lingering doubt about that.  Money has become its own form of goods and service, spun free of actually creating a good or service.  There is so much money to be made these days simply manipulating money that Financial Services is now the most profitable sector of our economy.

What are the implications of money being a relative concept rather than fixed commodity and is it beneficial that it permeates our lives so deeply?  Let’s return to the recent Great National Debt Ceiling Debate.  By the summer of 2011 a furor rose over the United State srunning out of money.  Actually, the government has been out of money since the 1940’s when we borrowed to finance World War II.  In the past seventy years there have been a few times when the debt level has been flat or even decreased, but it has never been fully paid. It climbed at a modest pace through the 50’s and 60’s, but since 1969 we have spent more every year than we take in.  The debt ticked up in the early 1970’s, rose quickly in the 1980’s, had a brief period of leveling in the 1990’s and has rocketed in the 2000’s.  Right now our gross public debt is close to $14.7 trillion, which translates to almost $50,000 per person.  These are incomprehensible numbers such that now money is not only abstracted to digits on spreadsheets; it is abstracted to amounts we can’t comprehend in any meaningful way.  The national debt has a life of its own, spinning up at dizzying speed.  Yet it seems to have very little to do with our daily lives, the reason being that the debt never comes due.  Whenever we want more money than we have, we simply borrow it.  We have managed to all get in hoc to each other and are collectively poorer as a result.

Americans are not alone in our penchant to borrow whenever we want.  Every industrialized nation has a sizable national debt.  The United States is at the high end in terms of total debt but we are in the middle as a measure of GDP (we owe about 60% of GDP) since our total economy is so large.  There are those who say we owe this to ourselves so the debt does not matter, but we now owe more than 25% of our debt to foreigners and at some point the debt will matter as the increasing cost of bearing this debt drags our economy down.

If we step back and view the debt situation of all Western nations over the past fifty years, one thing seems clear.  We are all fueling our economies on debt, we are consuming more than we produce and nobody knows at what level of debt the entire system spins out of control.

The trouble with the Great National Debt Ceiling Debate was not that is occurred, it is a debate that we need to have, but that it occurred with such rancor and discord and produced such paltry results.  Our national debt is a real and growing problem and anyone who pretends the situation can continue on, business as usual, only needs to look at the chaos in Greece to see what the future holds.  However, stopping our ability borrow cold turkey and shutting off ongoing government services is a kneejerk response to a problem that took decades to fester and will take decades of thoughtful action to resolve.  We have all had a hand in contributing to the national debt, Republicans and Democrats, business and unions, public and private employees, retirees, unemployed, tycoons and welfare queens. Every time we receive a government benefit that is not paid for by tax revenue, we contribute to the debt.  Every time we wage a war or repair a bridge or start a social program that is not funded, we contribute to the national debt.  The national debt is nothing more than all of things that we said we wanted but were unwilling to pony up the money to buy.

If one of our guiding principles is to ‘form a more perfect Union’ we need to recognize that carrying this tremendous debt is a burden on our union.  We must each accept our role in the situation, roll up our sleeves and address this problem before we become Greece.  We do not have to turn it around overnight, but we do have to acknowledge the problem and set timetables to implement change.  As long as we feel free to borrow money whenever we want, we can propel the illusion that the life we are leading can continue indefinitely.  But if we want to create a country, and a world, where we actually live within our means, we are going to have to reevaluate basic assumptions.  This will require significant shifts in our economic perspectives.  The results do not have to be draconian but they do have to be bold and they will require a broad economic vision.  Our habit of shuffling around a few programs when we give lip service to our debt is not going to cut it.

We have to move away from a consumer driven economy because frankly, it is an unsustainable model of existence that has reached its limits in terms of promoting well-being.  There comes a point where, the more stuff we have the more burdensome it becomes, and many of us have surpassed that point.  Unwinding the consumer economy will not be easy in a society premised on the idea that whatever ails us can be rectified by more stuff, but eventually we will get to a point where people understand that every aspect of life has a balance, and there is a point of having ‘enough’ is actually preferable to having ‘more’.

In a post-consumer economy ‘stuff’ will disappear. Just as money went from gold bullion to bills to computer digits, we will have less need of actual objects.  One small example is the evolution of home movies.  First we had videos, then DVD’s then Netflix in the mail and now movies on-demand to our screen.  There are some people who like the collector aspect of having shelves of DVD’s on display, just as some folks like to display home libraries of books, but most of us want the experience of watching the movie, not the movie itself. We don’t need or want the actual object associated with it, and now, the object has disappeared while the experience is still available.

Coupled with the evolution of a post-consumer economy will be the ability to generate economic growth out of renewable resources.  Consider how radically communication has changed in the past twenty years.  With laptops and the Internet and cellular phones we have completely decentralized yet fully integrated communication systems.  We can do that with energy as well. Let’s use solar and wind and hydrogen to develop a decentralized system of producing power that is fully integrated so we can keep our American love of the private automobile and our amazing infrastructure of roads, but develop vehicles that don’t need gas to drive on them.  Like our communication systems, decentralized energy will take innovation and expense to get started, but once it is up and running it will result in lower energy costs for all and lead us to much needed energy self-sufficiency.

The same drive for decentralized development should be pursued for every social and economic endeavor; integrated systems of manufacturing, construction, education, and healthcare.   The world will be a completely fluid place, we will have the capability to do things just about anywhere we want, yet be connected to everyone else as well.

These changes will be hard to come by, people will cling to what they already know, negotiating will be difficult with those who want to cut the economic pie a particular way instead of understanding that the pie is not a fixed size; it is expandable.  When the economy is measured in possibility rather than in limits, limits are eliminated.   The United States will be tussling with every other country for a stake in this evolving economy, but if we recognize our long term objective of creating a fiscally sound Union, we can find solutions where everyone who is invested in the process can win.  It will take an educated populace with curious minds and disciplined work habits for us to lead this effort. Fortunately, these happen to be the very same characteristics that fueled the growth of Upstate New York over a hundred years ago, before the term consumer economy even existed, back when money was a good as gold.

The money that inspired New York to call itself the Empire State, the hard currency used to build the Erie Canal and railroads and Wall Street has morphed into money that expands and contracts in tune with economic cycles, that has a tangential relationship to actual costs of production, that is valued differently by each of our psyches, and that has an economic life all its own.  It has no intrinsic value yet is deeply valued by all. How does the Empire State stack up against today’s money?  Let’s go back to our two pieces of real estate to test.

The average Manhattan condo, $1.7 million, sits comfortably in an empire of floating money.  Despite competition from London and Tokyo, the NYSE and NASDAQ are still the lions of the financial world.  The exorbitant salaries and bonuses we bestow upon the money gurus of Wall Street, and the outsized influence the island of Manhattan plays on the entire world in terms of finance, fashion, and culture make New York City, still, a center worthy of claiming the title Empire.  In this era where mass communications shrink the world while the specialization of the Internet creates myriad niche influences, the sort of mass culture that New York exported during the 1940’s and 1950’s has receded.  Now New   York City is an empire as opposed to the empire, but anyone mapping the centers of money and influence on the planet would still have to place their first pushpin on The Big Apple.

But how about Buffalo, or her sister city in navigating downscale with style, Rochester; how about Medina, or her sister towns in bucking deterioration and extinction like Lockport or Oneida; or how about the cities I passed through that have fallen into disrepair, Dunkirk and Amsterdam and Schenectady; cities that will need a strong extended hand to yank themselves back to any reflection of their former selves.  How do these places fare as representatives of empire?  These are the places founded on the hard currency, places whose worth was measured in the sweat of the men who worked the canals and the factories, farmed the fertile soil and developed the industrial innovations that made nineteenth century Upstate New York a mecca of agricultural, industrial, transportation and innovation can-do unlike the world had ever seen before.  Upstate was the Silicon Valley of its day, and it will never be that again, if for no better reason than these days incubation can occur anywhere, and most people won’t do it where the climate is so unappealing.

If the sign of true empire, like that of true civilization, is how well we take care of the least among us,New York has serious cracks in its empire.  Riding through Amsterdam was like spooling through a documentary of urban American gone wrong, and cycling up State  Street in Schenectady I passed too many people wandering aimlessly along an avenue of inopportunity.  But cracks can be repaired and the larger portrait of New York’s empire is promising, especially when compared to how other states challenged by post-industrial cities in adverse climates have fared. Upstate New York is a remarkably beautiful place, at least in late summer, and most of it has adapted to the declining opportunities of the late twentieth century with the same resourcefulness that brought wealth and influence in earlier times.  Upstate’s days of undisputed power are behind, yet the people, resources, history, culture and ethics that remain are resilient.  They are adapting to the changing world rather than capitulating to it.  Our country as a whole can learn much from their resilience.

There is still the matter of that grand house in Medina.  For anyone thinking it is a good buy, consider the following. Medina, NY has 5,900 people, down 8% since 2000.  The average house costs $69,200.  The unemployment rate is a shade under the national average at 9.8%, and overall jobs are declining, but the Brunner Industries brake components plant had a banner ad up for employment and was running a full shift when I rode by on a Saturday morning.  Sterling Best Places to Live ranks Medina in the top ten places in terms of security and for celebrating Thanksgiving. I can believe that, the leafy town must be breathtaking on a crisp autumn day.  The cost of living is 16.6% lower than the US average, yet Medina spends over $8,000 per student in their public schools, a third higher than the national average.  I can’t find anything in those statistics to warrant moving to Medin aif I am looking for an investment in the world of floating money.  Yet my hope is that someone buys that house, lives in it, keeps it well and in doing so enhances the stability of the town. They don’t buy it because it is a good investment, they don’t buy to make money, they buy it to live in it with the understanding that there are dreams that deserve to come true even if they cannot be tabulated in money.

 

 

 

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Walking Home

Towards the end of my stint in Haiti, when construction is under control, I try to knock off early and walk home. It is about a quarter mile from my home base at the BLB site to the school, then another half mile to Lex and Renee’s house in the middle of Grand Goave, then another mile or so across the river to Milleton, where I stay.  The intermediate points are helpful because night descends fast here, and I can catch a ride at either if I cannot reach the river before dark.  But the past two days I left early enough to walk the entire route, and it is a worthwhile excursion.

I take the walk to the school site twice a day, to check the status of construction around nine and then again for lunch, so that part is second nature to me now. I recognize everyone along the route, the children have learned that begging yields them nothing so they have stopped shouting ‘Give me one dollar”, but a few still like to run along with the blan.  By the time I get to the highway I often have a trio of children dragging on my arms.

The walk from the school to the house takes me along the highway and through the center of Grand Goave.  Market days are Wednesday and Saturdays and the pedestrians spill out into the road, choking traffic to one lane.  Retail geography works in Grand Goave just like it does on the Automile; all the charcoal sellers squat next to each other, as do the mango sellers and the chicken sellers.  Although blan are less of a curiosity since the earthquake, everyone looks at me with a stone face until I say bon swa, then their faces relax and they respond in kind.  Although I am captivated by Haiti I am not naïve to its dangers, so I put my wallet in my front pocket, keep my shoulder bag slung across my chest, and if I sense someone shadowing me I cross the street.  Still, nothing the least bit dangerous has occurred, if you dismiss my startles when I hear ‘Bon swa Paul’ out of sea of black faces.  Sometimes I can discern someone familiar, sometimes not.  It is unnerving to live in a place where you don’t know many people but so many know you.

Once I turn off the highway the streets are less crowded but no less interesting.  I pass the dress shop with the mannequin wearing a nylon pants ensemble circa 1982, the open lot where young guys wash their motorcycles, the haggard housewives sweeping the dirt in front of their houses (what is the point of sweeping dirt away from dirt, I wonder), the masons skimming mortar over quake cracks as if the houses just need a Band-Aid,  the fat guy squatting in front of the empty beer hall at this early hour, the cemetery with New Orleans style above ground tombs, and the walls with spray painted names of people who never made it to the cemetery.  A dieu Edith.  A dieu Dion.  A dieu Phillipe.  Names fixed to the walls that killed them.

Still the rubble and the reminders of the dead do not dampen this town of its good spirit. This afternoon there was a parade, a brass band pumping out an oom-pah beat while twin lines of women several blocks long danced down the street.  I have no idea what they were celebrating, but it was riotous joy

A dirt side street leads to the river.  The rainy season is a bit late this year and the river is bone dry.  A path descends the banks.  This is a favorite place to dump garbage, and therefore is the kingdom of the goats and pigs.  In December there were maybe three or four animals runting through the trash, but now there are dozens.  One mama pig alone has eight piglets scurrying around her, each a different color.  There is a steady path of people walking along the river bed, but the further I get from the market, the slower the pace. I have entered an area where a blan is still a rarity; the adults stop to chat, the children ask me for a dollar and settle for having their picture taken.  The river is stacked with garbage that, when the rains come, will wash away and turn the sea murky, but today the water in the distance is a sparkling crystalline blue.

I rise up the other bank into a different world, a rural scattering thick with tropical trees and lattice huts.  Here the houses are stitched together with palm fronds, the cooking fires are small, the children are naked, and their bellies distended, yet I am never out of earshot of laughter.  The word for happy in Creole is kontonn, which we think of as content.  I can’t fathom how these people can be as happy as they appear except as confirmation of my hypothesis that contentment has nothing to do with physical comfort. On this far side of the river everyone greets me, a few in English.  There are beautiful pale purple flowers along a hedge, the mango trees are bursting with fruit, a productive day of work is behind me, the sun casts a tender glow on distant mountains, and if life could be sweeter, it is beyond my imagination.

Parade in Grand Goave

Past the garbage in the river bed lies the beautiful sea

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